


Blake

by Kabi



Series: November [8]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Aristocracy, Arranged Marriage, Bride Capture, CarrierVerse, Forced Marriage, Gender Identity, M/M, Maledom, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-21
Updated: 2012-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 07:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kabi/pseuds/Kabi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Please don't do this to me."<br/>Lee's face melted in sympathy.<br/>"I'm so, so sorry, Blake." <br/>The explanation was unspoken - there was no alternative. Not for a young man of Blake's standing, for a family of the Worthings' caliber, for an opportunity like this one. <br/>"I don't - " Blake tried to take in a slow breath, but found it staggered and impossible. "I don't even know him."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

"So are you going?"  
Blake scoffed and pushed the fringe of his dark blonde hair back behind one ear.  
"Of course I'm going. It's my family. You think I'd possibly have the privilege of _not_ going?" 

Blake rolled over onto his back, taking in the bright afternoon sunlight, and exhaled in annoyance.  
"I wish he'd told me earlier, though. Six days to a press-ready event?" he ran a hand through his hair. "What the hell am I going to wear?"

The pretty, bronze-skinned carrier beside him grinned and shook his head before stretching out on the blanket to peer at his friend sideways.  
"Blake...babe..." he drawled out, amused, "I _wish_ I had your problems."

~:~

"Hi, Blake! Welcome home, sweetie!"

Lee Worthing, Blake's carrier stepmother, was of course the first person to greet him when he entered his parents' familiarly ornate mansion. The carrier, ten years younger than his father and looking twenty, waved an agitated hand as he floated down the hallway. Blake smiled at his approach; Lee was the only mother he'd ever known, and had doted on Blake since he was a child.

"Put those bags down, Bibi! Someone will get them - that's what we pay them for. And you shouldn't be lifting like that! Not a carrier of your age! Heaven forbid you injured something - then we'd _never_ get you married." Lee smiled hugely as he came closer to Blake and enveloped him in a large hug. 

"My darling." he cooed, and Blake coughed as he caught a whiff of the wine on Lee's breath. "Come," his stepmother continued, taking Blake by the hand, "Everyone has been expecting you."

~

'Everyone' turned out to be his father, several cousins, and three of his uncles and their carrier wives. His brothers, both out of town on business, wouldn't be attending - and of course the evening guests hadn't arrived yet, so despite the visitors, the house remained generally quiet. The family had gathered in the library to chat and catch up on rapidly passing lives. 

"It's the least we can do, really," his Uncle Robby was saying as he gestured with a hand that gripped a whiskey glass. "I mean, those poor people are _suffering_."  
"They haven't got any medicine at all there," his wife added, "Not even panacol." she shook her head in thoughtful sympathy. "You just think of those poor men."  
"Well," Blake's father answered, leaning forward in his chair, "At least the mines are a good, honest living. Better than those...itinerants you find out in the hills. Now those people don't even _want_ to work; that's the worst part of it. At least your miners understand what it's all about. A man was made to work. Without it, he's just a child."

Lancaster Worthing cleared his throat and tossed back the rest of his glass. No one ever disagreed with his father, Blake noticed. Even when he was handing down judgments he was wholly unqualified to make. Blake must have gone tense, because Lee encircled his wrist with two fingers and squeezed sympathetically, then said brightly,  
"And just look who I found wandering the halls!"

Everyone turned and greeted Blake merrily, lifting glasses and standing up to offer warm smiles, open arms, and all the unique attention of family. It felt good sometimes, Blake remembered, to be here - even worth circumnavigating his father. He found a seat and Lee settled onto his husband's lap while everyone asked Blake a million questions about the CEC and how things were going and why in God's name he'd chosen to spend all his time teaching some ragtag bunch of random chance carriers when he could have been at one of the private institutions - and paid much better.

Blake took all their questions and unsolicited advice good-naturedly, checked in on all of his cousins, asked about houses and businesses and friends and travel, and only realized that more than an hour's worth of conversation had passed when his father helped Lee get to his feet, then turned his attention to Blake.

"About that time for you and the girls, Bibi."  
Blake glanced at the clock and his eyes widened.  
" _Six-thirty_? Yeah - I've got to get ready." he said, then glanced at his father anxiously. "I wasn't sure what to wear - "  
"I'm sure anything you choose will be fine, Blay." Lancaster interrupted, a kinder smile than he was used to rising on the old man's features. "Just hop to." he gestured toward the door. "Run along with your mother and your aunts - they'll help you."

Blake wrinkled his nose briefly, but knew better than to show doubt to his father's face. Besides, if Lancaster Worthing was in a particularly good mood, who was he to question it? The others were already gathering up empty glasses and kissing husbands and refilling scotch before filing out of the room; Lee lingered in the doorway to wait for Blake.

"Of course; I'll go now. Thank you, Papa."  
Lancaster Worthing smiled and generously reached out to pat his middle son's shoulder, then cup his cheek.  
"My beautiful son." he smiled, before turning back to conversation with the men.

~:~

It was a joke. It _had_ to be a joke. It felt like a joke. But it wasn't a joke. It was real. It was sick and wrong and _terrifyingly_ real. This wasn't a gala, this was a goddamn press conference. To announce the engagement of Blakely Smith Worthing to Thadderson Landon Warner. 

Blake sat in his chair beside his stepmother and fair shook with his anger. They had _engaged_ him? To Thad? With what? No warning, no discussion...not even any disclosure. They had _lured_ him here, tricked him into coming and he hadn't even known...he hadn't even had a chance to tell his friends goodbye. What if he never saw them again? What if Thad wanted him to move from the CEC right away, and - 

Blake stopped himself before he could become overwhelmed. The last thing he needed was to hyperventilate and make himself look like even more of a weak carrier stereotype than he already did.

But what the hell was he going to do?

~:~


	2. Thad

"Blake?" his stepmother was back, peering into his face, a look of worry and consternation pinching the otherwise impeccably formed features. Lee tilted his head and reached out to smooth some of Blake's hair back from his face. "I feel like this is really hard for you." he began, hesitantly. 

Blake wanted to scream. _Fuck yes_ , it was hard for him. To be caught in such a pretty trap; such an explicitly planned and viciously executed betrayal...to be _forced_ to comply by that greatest of all pressures - social mores. To be foolish enough to have thought - to have _believed_ that you were different, that your family was different, that _this_ was different...Blake didn't know whether he should cry or hit his stepmother in the mouth. But then Lee was there again with his gentleness, with his elegant hands resting on Blake's shoulders and that look of such deep concern on his face, and Blake loved him again, and shuddered and broke.

"Dad, I'm scared. I'm _really_ scared." 

Despite the tautness of rage, despite the lock he had on his own reactions, Blake couldn't stop the tears. It was happening. It was really happening, and no one was going to do anything. His own father and stepmother and cousins and uncles were just going to stand by - because they all thought it would be _good_ for him. Blake's Best Option. 

It would keep him safe; it would keep him amongst them; it would keep him _in proper standing_. 

Blake would have burst with outrage had he had anything left to rage with. But as it was, he was tired, so tired. Just the effort of the dinner had worn him down, and the struggle of staying still, of not bolting, of remaining who he was: a well-raised, well-trained, thoughtful and strategic young man who knew damn well that the worst thing in the world was the total loss of dignity. Lee had squeezed his hand during dinner, and was squeezing it again now. Blake looked up at him through a slippery haze of mixed thoughts and confused realities.

"I know, baby." he was saying, and he exchanged another concerned glance with one of Blake's uncles' wives. "I was thinking maybe it might be easier for you if you take something, hmm?" Lee scooted his chair forward, to put them even closer, their knees bumping in the short space. "Just a little something to help you sleep through it?"  
Blake felt rage and sickness and disgust and hatred all swell up in him again and crash through his strongest defenses.  
"I don't **want** to sleep through it!" he shouted, upsetting the group and slamming his knee into the corner of Lee's chair as he jumped to his feet. "I don't want to get drugged just to - just to get through the goddamn day, just to - " he put a shaky hand through his hair, tried to clear it back where it had been mussed by his initial struggle. 

As quickly as the tide had risen, it fell and he felt beached again - stranded by the waves of his own emotions. There was really no turning back now, and no fighting, and no getting out. He looked first to his aunts, then to Lee.  
"Please don't do this to me."  
Lee's face melted in sympathy.  
"I'm so, so sorry, Blake." 

The explanation was unspoken - there was no alternative. Or there were alternatives, but they were unthinkable. Unthinkable for a young man of Blake's standing, for a family of the Worthings' caliber, for an opportunity like this one. 

"I don't - " he tried to take in a slow breath, but found it staggered and impossible. "I don't even know him."  
Lee stood up, apparently feeling on more solid footing now, because he came forward eagerly.  
"Sure you do. Don't you remember? You used to play together all the time when you were kids. We all took the boat out that summer in the North? And that spring when your fathers raced catamarans together, and would never take you boys along, no matter how much you begged. You were fourteen then, and Thad took you walking along the dock for ice cream instead - remember?"

Blake stared numbly at his stepmother. It was surreal, the ease with which everyone else seemed to have added this in, formulated it as a part of their lives. The conversations at dinner had been unbearable. 

"As soon as the announcements are made..."  
"We can set the details of the trust _after_ the firstborn comes..."  
"Well, give them the dock license, then, and we'll see Thad out on the water next season..."  
"Blake's really one of the lucky ones - he's _never_ going to lose that tiny little waist, _never_..."

As if everything had already occurred. As if there was so much certainty that assumptions could afford to be made; money could be spent, reservations put in place. As if they would just do as they were told. Like animals - no, worse than animals; a horse might rear up, a dog might rebel. More like dead things.  
Blake wanted to vomit. 

Instead, he sat numbly in one of the silk chairs of Lee's private dressing room and stared at his trembling hands. One of his aunts came close, kneeling down to speak to him.  
"I really think things will be easier for you this way, Blake. There's no risk with Thad - we _know_ him, you know? He's from a good family, and he's got good prospects. He'll be an excellent provider for you, and for your children. And think of what you're doing for your own family - I know you don't much care about these kinds of things, but... timber has been difficult recently. Until the industry recovers, there's just no telling what other resources we all might need to draw on. The Warners are in steel, Bibi."  
Blake _did_ know, and he had worried, too. 

Another aunt leaned in to contribute.  
"And you know, Blake - you're lucky. Honestly lucky. Thad is _such_ a good guy; just a perfect gentleman. You know he wanted to escort you to your cotillion?" his carrier aunt smiled. "I suppose it's a little late for that now, but that just goes to show you how sincere his interest is. And your families are already so close! His mother adores you and we adore him. You can live nearby - maybe even take a wing of Corshorn! - and we can all continue to spend time together, and still do holidays, and we can keep an eye on you! And help with the children- trust me, you'll want that, and - "

Blake just tuned him out at some point because listening made it more difficult to still love anyone. 

Shortly, there was a knock on the door. One of his cousins appeared. The room fell quiet. The cousin nodded cordially to Lee and the aunts, and then turned his attention fully, albeit hesitantly, to Blake.  
"You ready to go, kiddo?"  
Blake's heart pounded and his stomach roiled and anger burned so hotly in him that he thought he would go aflame.  
"I'm not. No. I'm not going." he clenched his fists. He was quitting this game, and damn anyone who tried to stop him. His cousin cast a regretful look at Lee, then focused again on Blake.  
"Uncle Lancaster says to bring you by force, if need be."  
Blake damn near shivered with the power of his hatred.  
"Then tell my father to come get me himself."  
Lee gasped a little.  
"Blake. Come now, that's not - "  
"Leave me alone!" he spun to face his stepmother. "Leave me alone; you're as bad as he is - all of you are! Damn you all! All of it!" his voice rose in pitch. "I'll be damned if I'll walk upstairs like this is some goddamn dream - I won't! I won't do it!" he turned back to his cousin at the door and snarled, viciously, "If you want me in that bed, then you'll have to drag me."

His cousin's brow wrinkled in sadness for all of half a second before the door burst open and he, along with three of Blake's other relatives, stormed the carrier and took him bodily from the room.

Blake fought - for a man untrained, he fought with everything he had, every bite and scratch and flailing kick and scream he had in him, but ultimately it was nothing. There were four of them and one of him and as they carried him through the rear hallway, it became apparent from the quiet that surrounded them that Corshorn was completely empty. The party had apparently disbanded, and everyone but those interested in the evening's consummation had gone home. There was no one to see him struggle. He landed a particularly sharp kick to his uncle's kidney, which was rewarded with a twist of his arm that made him yelp in pain as they reached the stairs. He quit the strategy of aiming for humans and went for valuables instead, straining to knock over one of his parents' priceless vases or tear a painting as he was transported.

They arrived without incident at the foot of the stairs.

"I'm not going! I won't! I won't, you can't make me! You cowards! Fucking cowards!" Blake continued to scream, hoping that if nothing else, he could at least dissuade them with commotion. Perhaps if he fought long enough, they'd decide he wasn't worth it. He heard mumbled voices underneath his shouting and realized they were conferring on some issue. They began to ascend the steps. Blake caught a sliver of the conversation -  
"...hold him down the whole time?"  
\- and realized what a spectacularly degrading night this could turn out to be. But he couldn't stop himself now - he'd invested too much in fighting this to just lay down peacefully at the end. He would not go gently, no matter the cost. 

Halfway up the stairs, he caught the figure of his soon-to-be husband in his visual periphery and unleashed a volley of new insults in his general direction. Thad Warner just gave him a grim little smile and let the caravan pass. He held something Blake could not discern in his hands. 

~

In the bedroom, it was no better. The fighting stopped, blessedly, but only because Blake had been firmly secured to the bed with a length of rope that one of his cousins had produced - apparently just for this occasion. Tied down, he still had some leeway, and he used that to fight his little heart out, landing another good kick to one cousin's sensitive side and a scratch across another's face. His uncle swore and instructed two of the cousins to hold him down. Thadderson appeared at the door. 

Blake looked up as far as he could from his restrained position, caught sight of the man implicit in his rape, and spat viciously at him. Thad looked startled, then annoyed, then disgusted, then he just shook his head and came forward, still holding the object Blake couldn't identify. He leaned over the carrier and, for a moment, just stared at him - looked deep into Blake's soft blue eyes as if searching for something. Finding it or not, he eventually turned away.

"Are you going to fight me, Blake?"  
The response was immediate and heartfelt.  
"Until the end."  
Thad's brow constricted a little at that, but he looked up at the two cousins holding Blake down.  
"You'll stay, then."  
They nodded. Thad held the object in front of Blake's face, stretching it out between two hands. Belatedly, Blake realized what it was. Thad shook his head, sadly, at the carrier.  
"You poor goddamn thing." was all he said before the gag was tied in place, and then the lights were extinguished and then Blake really began to fight, from the heart although his body was tired. Thad tried to touch him soothingly, but there were still hands - the hands of his own kin! - holding him down and they were going to be there, they were going to witness Blake's taking, his first taking, and Thad just shook his head in pity and gagged him up so he couldn't spit in their faces. 

Thadderson gave no decoration to what he was about to do. There were no fancy names, no euphemisms to give it new face, nothing that could really alter the reality of what was happening. He was going to fuck Blake Worthing against his will, after he had been lured under false premises into his father's house, and while his cousins held him down and pretended not to watch. 

It wasn't too late. He could still say no. Thad's stomach flipped. And if he did? Then what? Would he be a hero? No, because then Blake might be abandoned to a much worse fate. The carrier wouldn't suffer with him, at least. Thad had loved him when they were boys, and was sure he loved him still. Blake had never cared much, one way or the other, what Thadderson felt, but...at least it was there on one side. He could guess who would be in line behind him, if he failed. Lancaster Worthing had had his eye on the San Marcos family since the day they'd set foot in this country. Williams San Marcos would be next on the list. Williams San Marcos did not love Blake. And Williams San Marcos had no pity for the unloved. 

So Thad fucked him, dutifully and honestly and as quickly as he could manage, to spare Blake the humiliation, and it was terrible. It was raw and awful and even with lube there was a little too much friction and he tried to make it gentle, but when he went inside of him, Blake yelped and arched and cried out besides; he screamed even through the gag and Thadderson felt so sick for a minute he didn't know if he could finish. But he had to complete; he had to do it so they would let Blake up, so they would let him free and then wouldn't touch him again. And Thad wouldn't touch him again, either. Not until after things were better, until he'd had a chance to make it right...Blake, his Blake, who had been his first love. Blake of ice cream and shores and dangling wet toes off the dock. Blake for whom things were never supposed to turn out like this.

~:~


End file.
